Horace Grimsby reached Silverton eleven days later.
By then, Martha had almost convinced herself he would not.
Colorado was far from Wyoming.
Winter had closed several passes.
No sane businessman would spend weeks traveling across dangerous country for a woman he had never legally employed.
But Grimsby was not coming merely for money.
Men like Horace Grimsby valued obedience more than profit.
Martha had escaped him publicly.
That insult cost more than three hundred dollars.
Callum learned of Grimsby's arrival from Esther Bell's husband.
"A stranger's been asking about Martha," Jacob Bell said when Callum returned from town. "Fancy cane. Black coat. Says he's got papers."
Callum's face became still.
Martha stood beside the flour barrel.
"What kind of papers?"
Jacob shrugged.
"Indenture, maybe."
Martha's stomach tightened.
"I never signed anything."
"Doesn't mean somebody didn't."
Callum looked at her.
"Abigail?"
Martha's mouth went dry.
She remembered Grimsby's words.
Then you sign as household guardian.
"I don't know."
Callum removed his gloves.
"You're twenty-four."
"I know."
"No one can sign away your labor."
"In Bitter Creek, rules become flexible when men with money ask."
"Not here."
Martha wanted to believe him.
But she understood something Callum did not.
Cruelty did not always arrive with a gun.
Sometimes it carried paper.
Sometimes a seal.
Sometimes a respectable signature.
That evening, someone knocked.
Callum answered.
Horace Grimsby stood outside.
His silver-tipped cane gleamed beneath the porch lantern.
Behind him waited two men.
Martha recognized one from Bitter Creek.
Deputy Harland Pike.
Her fear doubled.
Grimsby smiled.
"Miss Higgins."
Callum remained in the doorway.
"You can speak from there."
Grimsby's eyes moved over him.
"Mr. O'Rourke, I assume."
"That's right."
"I have business with the woman."
"Her name is Martha."
"I know her name."
"Then use it."
Martha stepped closer.
"Why are you here?"
Grimsby reached into his coat.
"To correct a theft."
Callum's voice lowered.
"Careful."
Grimsby smiled.
"Mrs. Abigail Higgins entered into a legal agreement to satisfy an outstanding debt through labor service."
"Her labor?" Martha asked.
"Yours."
"I never agreed."
"Your household guardian did."
"I'm twenty-four."
Deputy Pike looked uncomfortable.
Grimsby unfolded a paper.
"According to the original debt filing, you were listed as a dependent member of the household."
"Dependent?" Martha nearly laughed. "I ran the boarding house."
Grimsby ignored her.
"The agreement requires ten years of service or payment of three hundred dollars plus collection expenses."
"How much?" Callum asked.
Martha looked at him sharply.
Grimsby's smile widened.
"With expenses? Four hundred and twelve dollars."
Callum nodded.
Then closed the door.
Martha stared.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting money."
"No."
He turned.
"Martha—"
"No."
"I can pay it."
"I know."
"You know?"
"I've seen your lockbox when I clean. I'm not blind."
Despite the moment, Callum looked mildly offended.
"You've been looking in my lockbox?"
"I was dusting."
"Inside it?"
"The lid was open."
"That's poor lockbox practice."
Martha grabbed his sleeve.
"Callum."
He became serious.
"I can end this tonight."
"No. You can buy me."
His face changed.
"That's not what I'm doing."
"It will feel like it."
Outside, Grimsby struck the door with his cane.
"Mr. O'Rourke!"
Callum ignored him.
"Martha, listen."
"No. You listen."
She had never raised her voice to him.
"I ran that boarding house. I cooked every meal. I washed linen. I cleaned rooms. I worked without wages for three years. Abigail owes me, not the other way around."
"I believe you."
"Then don't pay him."
"He could drag this through a territorial court."
"Then we fight."
Callum stared.
Martha's heart pounded.
"We fight," she repeated.
Slowly, something like pride appeared in his eyes.
"All right."
He reopened the door.
Grimsby smiled smugly.
"Ready to settle?"
"No."
His smile vanished.
Callum handed the paper back.
"We'll see you before a judge."
Grimsby tapped his cane.
"You misunderstand the situation."
"No."
Callum stepped onto the porch.
"I understand it clearly."
Grimsby's men shifted.
"You traveled hundreds of miles expecting to frighten a woman into obedience."
Callum came down one step.
"You found me standing beside her."
The mountain air seemed to stop.
Grimsby looked past him at Martha.
"You've filled his head with stories."
Martha stepped onto the porch.
"No."
Her voice shook.
She continued anyway.
"I simply told him the truth."
Grimsby laughed.
"The truth? Shall we tell him how your family fed you? Sheltered you?"
Martha's cheeks burned.
Callum glanced at her.
She expected pity.
Instead he waited.
Martha realized the answer belonged to her.
"I fed them."
Grimsby snorted.
"I cooked every meal that boarding house sold for three years."
Her voice grew stronger.
"I baked the bread. I rendered the lard. I scrubbed the floors. I washed sheets. I carried coal. I tended sick guests."
Deputy Pike shifted again.
"I worked fourteen hours most days."
Martha stepped closer.
"How much do you suppose that labor was worth?"
Grimsby said nothing.
Callum almost smiled.
Martha understood.
For the first time, someone was making Grimsby calculate.
The court hearing was scheduled two days later.
Silverton's territorial magistrate, Judge Nathaniel Crowe, operated from a room above the assay office.
Martha barely slept the night before.
Callum found her at the table at two in the morning.
She was writing numbers.
"What are you doing?"
"Calculating."
"What?"
"My wages."
He pulled out a chair.
"You kept records?"
"No."
"But the boarding house did."
Callum leaned forward.
Martha smiled for the first time that evening.
"I wrote most of them."
She had copied weekly expenses for Abigail.
Numbers stayed in Martha's memory.
Twenty rooms.
Average occupancy.
Meal charges.
Laundry fees.
Seasonal rates.
She could estimate how much revenue her work produced.
Callum watched her calculate.
"Remind me never to owe you money."
"Don't sell me to a laundry camp and we'll be fine."
He laughed.
Then went quiet.
"Martha."
"Hm?"
"After this is over..."
She stopped.
"Yes?"
"We should discuss something."
Her heartbeat quickened.
"What?"
"Us."
"Oh."
"If you still want an us."
Martha looked at him.
"Do you?"
"I wrote an advertisement asking for a wife."
"That isn't an answer."
Callum rubbed his jaw.
"I'm discovering you don't allow a man much room to hide."
"I've had enough people hide truth from me."
"Fair."
He looked directly at her.
"Yes. I want an us."
Martha lowered her eyes because her face had become impossibly warm.
Callum stood.
"After court."
"After court."
The hearing began at nine.
Grimsby presented Abigail's signed agreement.
Judge Crowe read it.
Then looked at Martha.
"You were twenty-four when this was signed?"
"Yes, sir."
"Had you been declared incompetent?"
Martha blinked.
"No."
"Had a court appointed Mrs. Higgins your legal guardian?"
"No."
Crowe looked at Grimsby.
Grimsby's attorney cleared his throat.
"The household dependency clause—"
"Does not make an adult woman chattel," Crowe said.
Martha almost stopped breathing.
Grimsby leaned forward.
"There is still the underlying household debt."
Crowe nodded.
"That may be pursued against Mrs. Higgins's assets."
Grimsby pointed at Martha.
"She is an asset of that household."
The room became silent.
Judge Crowe's expression changed.
"Mr. Grimsby, I advise you to reconsider your vocabulary."
Martha looked at Callum.
His jaw was clenched.
But the case was not yet over.
Grimsby's attorney argued that Martha's labor had been provided in exchange for room and board.
Martha then handed Judge Crowe her calculations.
He studied them.
"You prepared these?"
"Yes."
She explained the boarding house.
Average meals.
Cleaning.
Laundry.
Food preparation.
Hours.
Even at the lowest domestic wage paid in nearby towns, Abigail would have owed Martha far more than three hundred dollars over three years.
Crowe turned to Grimsby.
"It appears the person you're calling a dependent generated substantial income for the household."
Grimsby stood.
"This is absurd."
"No," Martha said.
Everyone looked at her.
She rose slowly.
Her hands trembled.
But she remained standing.
"The absurd thing was believing I had no value until somebody wanted to collect me."
Silence.
Martha continued.
"My stepmother called me expensive."
Her voice cracked.
"She said feeding me caused debt."
Callum's eyes stayed on her.
"I believed her."
Martha swallowed.
"For years, I believed every plate I ate had to be repaid with work."
She looked at Grimsby.
"You came because you thought I would believe that too."
Grimsby's face reddened.
"But I don't anymore."
Judge Crowe dismissed the indenture.
Then he did something Grimsby had not anticipated.
He ordered a review of the labor camp contracts.
Deputy Pike, who had remained silent throughout, requested permission to speak privately with the judge.
Grimsby left the courthouse without Martha.
For the first time in weeks, she stood outside without fear of being dragged away.
Snow began falling.
Callum walked beside her.
"It's over."
Martha exhaled.
"Yes."
He reached for her hand.
Then stopped.
"May I?"
Martha smiled.
"You keep asking."
"I intend to."
She placed her hand in his.
They walked through Silverton together.
After several blocks, Martha said, "You wanted to discuss us."
Callum stopped.
Snow gathered in his hair.
"I did."
Martha waited.
Callum looked suddenly more nervous than when Grimsby arrived with two men.
"I own the cabin."
"I noticed."
"Land too."
"Yes."
"I make enough."
"Callum."
"I'm getting there."
Martha began smiling.
He drew a breath.
"When I placed that advertisement, I thought I needed someone practical."
"You did."
"I thought marriage was an arrangement."
Her smile faded slightly.
"And now?"
"Now I think I was a fool."
Martha's heart hammered.
Callum took both her hands.
"Martha Higgins, I don't want to marry you because you can cook."
"Good. Because your stew might kill me before the wedding."
He laughed.
Then became serious again.
"I don't want to marry you because you work hard."
She waited.
"I want to marry you because when you aren't in a room, I notice."
Martha's eyes filled.
"Because you laugh in my house."
His voice roughened.
"Because you argue with me."
"Someone has to."
"Because you're brave when you're terrified."
A tear slipped down Martha's cheek.
Callum brushed it away.
"And because I think I started falling in love with you before I ever saw your face."
Martha could barely speak.
"When?"
"When you wrote something painful because you thought I deserved honesty."
He touched her cheek.
"So I'm asking now with complete honesty."
Callum knelt in the snow.
People on the street stopped.
Martha covered her mouth.
"Will you marry me?"
She cried.
Callum looked worried.
"That's not an answer."
Martha laughed.
"Yes."
His shoulders dropped in relief.
"Yes?"
"Yes, Callum."
He rose.
For the first time, Martha did not care who watched.
She wrapped her arms around the scarred mountain man.
And Callum held her as though she were not something he had acquired.
But someone he had almost lost.